Never Alone
by PinkSugar0120
Summary: Foundling Kim has always wondered where she truly comes from, where she truly belongs. Will the Cajun master thief we all know and love teach her that a home isn't a place, it's the one you love. And that with him, she'll finally be home. GambitxOC.


_**Chap. 1**_

_Kim was flying through the clouds, happy as can be. Arms outstretched like a bird, she relished in her freedom, her complete surrender to the air above. Around her, a flock of falcons flew with her, winged lords of the skies, their powerful, regal wings lifting them higher and higher. Kim sped up to join them, her joy boundless and unending…._

"Kim!''

Kim's eyes flew open immediately. She frowned. _So much fer that!_

The door to her tiny ,drafty circus wagon flew open. And, walking in wearing a tacky red, white & yellow ringmaster's costume, was Cyril, his thin lips set in a tight scowl underneath his graying handlebar mustache.

"Kim, ya lazy, good-fer-nothin girl, sleep on yer own tahme!'' he said in a loud, gravelly Southern accent. "Ya go on in half in 'our! Don' make meh repeat mahself!''

"Alraght, alraght, ah'm up!'' unlike Cyril's teeth-grinding voice, her smooth, honeysweet Southern accent was actually pleasant to hear. She bicycle-kicked the blanket off of her, swinging her long legs over. "See!''

Cyril didn't say anything but storm out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Kim's eyes narrowed, her full lips frowning. Getting off of the thing, flimsy cot that she called a bed, she stood up, running a hand through the bouncy waves of her hair.

Taking a look at the wall beside her, she frowned at the framed poster of herself; or, the framed poster of her alter ego: The Mind Mistress. She cringed. Oh, how she hated that name! It was cheesy and unoriginal.

But then, what choice did she have?

This was her life. Or, at least the life forced onto her by her not-so-benevolent dictator-er-guardian. It had been ever since she was born.

Abandoned and found by Cyril Abernathy when she was only two days old, she had been forced into his life of circus entertainment since before she could walk.

The fact that she was a mutant only made her an even more valuable tool to a greedy man like Cyril.

When her powers of telepathy and telekinesis had emerged at the age of only two, Cyril immediately, and without hesitation, added her to his collection of freaks and abnormalities of nature. Dubbed "The Mind Mistress'' by Cyril himself, it was her job to wow and dazzle the audience with displays of psychic feats.

Once again, she scowled as she remembered her much hated stage name. Then again, Cyril was about as original as a Hollywood remake. Why, just look at her own name. Kim. Inspired by the initials carved onto the gold 3-letter monogram necklace found around her neck when Cyril imprisoned-uh-"saved'' her.

As she'd done countless times before she palmed her necklace as she read it.

It was round, the size of a quarter. Made of 14K solid gold, it had a raised edge to circle the antique matte disk with a single winking round brilliant cut diamond underneath the engraving. The pendant hung from a 14K gold cable chain (she knew it to be gold and diamond on account of she had it appraised). If you turned it around, her birthday-November 24, 1991-was engraved on the back. Why Cyril had let her keep it instead of pawning it off for a few bucks was beyond her.

As she looked at the scrollwork letters of her initial, first the K, the I last, and the large M in the middle, she thought to herself for the umpteenth time, _Why would give meh something so beautiful an' jus' dump meh? _It baffled her so. And, every time she would ask Cyril where he'd found her, he'd harshly refuse to say. Until one day, she got the hint: Quit asking.

Taking a fleeting glance at her watch, she stowed away her personal pain for the duration of the show.

She sat down at her ramshackle wooden vanity and started to do her makeup. Just one more show then they'd finally be out of this backwater Arizona town and off onto the next unsuspecting victims.

She colored her eyelids in glittery silver eyeshadow and painted her long, thick lashes in gold mascara, making her crisp, bright blue green eyes pop. She wrapped a beaded face veil around her face, leaving her hypnotic eyes the only visible part of her face.

Brushing some tangles out of her thigh-length, wavy, dark mahogany red-brown hair, she brushed it up into a tight Arabian-style ponytail.

She crossed over to a sad little dresser and pulled out her costume. A long, Cleopatra-inspired number with a shiny drop waist bodice, a long pleated satin skirt and detailing along the neckline & hip. She rolled up four cheap, dimestore metallic arm cuffs, two on her biceps and two on her wrists, that had a gauzy, transparent cape attached to them.

Some gold coin earrings, a matching choker over her necklace, and some phony jeweled rings completed the tawdry ensemble. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror.

Oh, how badly she wanted to take some gasoline and a lit match to the much hated costume.

As she slipped on some beaded flats, she heard a knock at her door. Expecting it to be hothead Cyril come to heckle her about hurrying up, she turned around wearing her meanest scowl. It softened however when she saw it was only Daisy, the sassy, spunky trapeze artists.

Aside from some others, Daisy was one of the very, _very_ few people Kim actually trusted.

Daisy Dauksza, a tall, athletic and beautiful blonde Southern girl like Kim, had been like a mother to Kim her whole life.

She had left her home of Atlanta, Georgia when she was only eighteen years old. She met Cyril and immediately was hired because of her superior gymnastic skills. She met fellow circus star, Russian immigrant Aristarkh Dauksza, the strongman, and it was love at first sight. Six months later, they were married. Nine months after, when both had turned nineteen, Daisy had a baby boy, Terrence, who worked with her on the high wire, in September.

That same year, on November 26 1991, Kim had been found and taken in by Cyril. As a newborn baby, she needed maternal care. And both Aristarkh and Daisy had loved Kim the minute they saw her. Thus, Daisy had happily become Kim's wet nurse.

As Kim stared at Daisy, Daisy came closer. She put a gentle hand on Kim's lightly tanned shoulder. "Ya look beautiful, sugah.''

"Please don' trah ta make this seem any bettah, Daisy? Ya know it ain't.''

"Jus' one mo' show, honey. Then we'll beh gone.''

"Yeah.'' Kim rolled her narrow eyes. Her voice held a lot of bitterness. "Gone an' raght to the next freakshow stop.''

Daisy tenderly held Kim's face in her hands, making the girl stare into her big green eyes. "It won' beh lahke this fo'evah darlin. Trus' meh.''

Kim gave her a quick hug and the two headed out.

Kim sarcastically murmured, "Inta the wolf pit.''

xXx

The sounds of calliope music echoed like a haunting siren's song in the air, luring the common folk into the folds of the colossal striped circus tent. The smells of hay, popcorn, cotton candy and sweat permeated the air like a choking cloud of perfume that always made Kim a little nauseated. Wild, chaotic swirls of color from clowns, acrobats, jugglers and many other of the performers of Cirque du Etherea collided together in a frenzied rainbow of thrills and chills.

Kim strode up, head held high despite her embarrassing clothes, and went to stand by the entrance into the ring. Standing there watching Master Fung and his Shaolin troupe was Aristarkh Dauksza, dressed in his signature unitard. Standing seven-feet tall, the muscles in his arms as big as watermelons, his shiny bald head and auburn horseshoe mustache, he fit the circus strongman stereotype to a T. However, what most people failed to see underneath all those muscles, was a sensitive, sweet man completely devoted to his wife, son and to Kim. These endearing traits made him the "gentle giant,'' of the circus family.

As the two women approached, he turned his shiny dark brown eyes on them. He smiled when they came closer. "Ah, lyubov moya (my love).'' his thick, rich Russian accent trilled as he caught his darling wife round her slender waist with his huge arms, kissing her passionately.

"Uh, raght here y'all,'' Kim interrupted in an amusing tone.

Aristarkh turned his gaze on Kim and he hugged her as well. Even when he was being affectionate, his embrace still felt like being in a python's coils.

"Zvyozdochka (little star),'' he cooed to her. "You on soon. You ready.''

She scoffed. "As ah'll evah beh.''

"You deserve better than circus, little one. Get you proper education and better life.'' His twinkling brown eyes showed her just how much he meant it. She couldn't resist hugging him, her slender arms around his beefy neck.

"Thank, Ari. Ah hope one day it comes true.''

The sound of the drums changing pitch signaled that it was time for her to go on. With a wave to her two surrogate parental figures, she breathed in deep and exhaled, hoping no one in the audience would give her flak for being a mutant.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!'' boomed Cyril's voice from the speakers. Kim winced. His voice was even more grating to listen to amped up. "May I present, a marvel of the world; a young woman with a mind so powerful that it masters matter and energy; completely, one hundred percent real, folks: no wires, no props, no mirrors! I give you…The Siren of the Psyche…The Lady of Fate…The All-Seeing Goddess…ladies and gentleman…THE MIND MISTRESS!''

A cloud of blue smoke and a flurry of glitter and Kim glided across the ground in a sweeping, graceful waltz of undulating movements and sensual steps. Leela, one of the belly dancing troupe, had taught her these moves when she was just a little bitty thing. Flashing strobe lights danced across her skin as she swept over the rings. Levitating a bit, she was no longer moving across the ground, but into mid-air; literally dancing on air.

The audience ooed and awed as she twirled in a twister of gauze and satin, coming back down to hover just inches above the ground, where a bunch of hoops, balls and other assortment of objects laid at her feet. With a flick of the wrist, the hoops, balls etc. hovered into the air as easily as if they'd been strung on puppet strings. She made them dance wildly above the crowd, doing complex flips, circles, loop-de-loops, enthralling the audience.

Inside, a slight nervousness gnawed at her stomach. A couple of years ago, while doing this routine, someone in the audience had outed her as a mutant. That one little word had started a chain reaction of hostility and aggression in the crowd.

They immediately started booing and jeering her, throwing their drinks and food at her. One huge Big-Gulp had hit her square on the head, drenching her in Pepsi. She'd run out of the ring and into her wagon crying.

Cyril had found her and, instead of comforting her, furiously yelled at her for ruining the entire show, even though it hadn't been even one bit her fault. He'd slapped her in the face and dragged her off to spend a night in "the cage.''

Ever since that night, she'd always be on alert when doing her routine, ready to run, ready to jet if the crowd seemed to suspect she was one of those group of people that all the world seemed to hate.

However, she seemed lucky this evening, because there was no jeers, no shouts, no flying concession stand fare. Just encouraging applause and cheering erupted from the crowd every time she'd make three flaming hoops whirl in super fast motions or made herself fly in graceful spinning dances. Energy snapped and crackled within her like lightning bolts as she allowed her psychic power to work it's pizzazz.

"And now,'' Cyril declared into his mic, "the Mind Mistress will conclude with her world famous and jaw-dropping…Flying Circus Parade!''

Kim inhaled-exhaled deeply as she readies herself for this bit. The Flying Circus Parade would require a hell of a lot of concentration and energy to complete. If she wasn't careful, an elephant could fall from 60 feet in the air and squash some unlucky spectators.

Many of the performers and animals lined up in their colorful, glittery costumes in a large circle around the ring, waiting for her to do the rest. With a joyful melody playing throughout a tent on the calliope, Kim took her place in the center ring, waiting for Cyril's signal. On his go, she floated straight up, high in the air. Like magic, the parade followed with her.

Keeping focused and calm like Master Fung had taught her, she started to move the whole entourage around in a mid-air circle as if they themselves were walking.

Elephants pranced weightlessly, jugglers juggled dozens of balls into the air, the belly dancers performed a hypnotizing aerial dance, the Globe of Death cyclist triplets Channing, Cheryl and Chad revved up their floating motorcycle engines, the flying clowns honked their horns and waved their umbrellas, Sally the Trick Rider balanced gracefully on one hand on the back of her floating white steed, the dog trainer had his dogs jumping through hoops mid-flight, and so on and so on all around the ring the performers brought the crowd to wild frenzies of delight with a trick no other circus in the world had.

After a few times spinning the parade around, Kim took another cue from Cyril. Raising her arms high in the air, Kim pressed a hidden button strapped to her palms, attached to a secret wrist cannon attached to her wrist cuffs. Wads of flash paper shot into the air like colorful streams, burst into colorful explosions of light, sound and whirling, swirling shapes.

Lowering herself-and her flying parade-down to the ground, the Mind Mistress levitated once more into the ground, bowing elegantly before a wildly cheering audience, many of them screaming for more.

And, in a puff of smoke and glitter, she was gone.


End file.
